Would They Not Be Me?

A tall woman with dark black hair stood at the edge of a building, her eyes begging to cry, but her mind unheeding. Her thoughts wondered, but all ended on the realization that no matter how much she changed, the man she loved, could never truly love her in return. She looked down at the world, and saw a small child, crying. She saw a man, being stabbed, dying. A woman, being raped. And she thought about how kind fate had been to her. Would not this dying man be me; prefer to be heartbroken for the first time, than stabbed? Would not this child be me; prefer not to cry? And would not this woman be me; prefer to not be involved with any man now? Why do I feel so crushed by one mediocre event in life, that all must face, and not realize the sufferings of others? She looked down again and saw a man wearing rags in the street playing a sax for money. Saw, one car crash, avoiding a dog, another crash, hitting the dog. Would that man not be me; and have money, a house? Would not these people be me; safe, unharmed? Did I truly not see this? The terrors of the world?

That night, upon her safe arrival home, she called her former beloved. He sounded pleased, then confused as she thanked him profusely for not loving her. For making her see what she had ignored. So please, worry not when you break up, divorce, be refused. For when you look at the world, after these judgments, you will be pleased within yourself, for seeing all misfortunes.